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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375032">Talk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades'>TheAsexualofSpades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bonding, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:07:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur’s not exactly sure why Merlin has a habit of disappearing during the day, but he does know the tavern bill isn’t nearly as high as it should be if that’s where Merlin was always going. Gaius may always say—well, not say, more like heavily imply until Arthur puts that together for himself—that Merlin’s there, but Arthur knows better. </p><p>Which means Merlin’s just flat-out missing. </p><p>Great.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwaine &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine &amp; Merlin (Merlin), Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>256</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks for the prompt! These two are fun to write</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><b>Prompt: </b>Hi are you still doing Merlin prompts? If so, I’d love to see some bonding with Gwaine and Arthur? You write amazingly and I know you usually focus on Merlin, but I’d love to see those two learn to get along. Maybe they’re on a duo quest to find Merlin and slowly grow together over it? Thank you and no pressure if you’d prefer not to write it!</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur’s not exactly sure <em>why </em>Merlin has a habit of disappearing during the day, but he does know the tavern bill isn’t nearly as high as it should be if that’s where Merlin was always going. Gaius may always <em>say</em>—well, not <em>say, </em>more like heavily imply until Arthur puts that together for himself—that Merlin’s there, but Arthur knows better.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Which means Merlin’s just flat-out missing.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Great.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Arthur,” Guinevere calls as she hustles down the steps, “you’re not going <em>alone, </em>are you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“If that’s what it takes, then I will.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But you know you can’t go alone, what if you—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Guinevere,” Arthur says gently, stepping back to cup her hands in his, “you <em>know </em>I have to go.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I’m not saying you <em>can’t, </em>I’m saying you should bring someone <em>with </em>you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He’s not going alone,” calls another voice.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They both look around to see Gwaine already mounted, riding into the square. He tips Guinevere a deep nod and raises an eyebrow at Arthur.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Well? You going to get your royal arse onto the horse or not?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur rolls his eyes. “I’ll be back.”</p><p class="p3"><br/>“You’d better.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“About time,” Gwaine calls cheerfully as they start out of the gate, “you’d think you’d show a little more enthusiasm.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We’re here to find Merlin,” Arthur says as firmly as he can, “so let’s get started.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He urges Hallariel into a gallop, racing through the fields until they reach the deeper woods. To his dismay, Gwaine easily keeps pace. If anything, the knight looks more comfortable on the horse than Arthur feels. He grits his teeth and keeps on.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The forest is empty, no sign of Merlin. They ride on. Gwaine is surprisingly quiet as they search, finally noticing a scrap of Merlin’s neck kerchief heading south.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They slow, giving the horses a break, until Gwaine digs out a scrap of the dries meat and tears into it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur rolls his eyes. “Can’t wait until we’re stopped, can you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine shrugs. “‘M hungry. Aren’t you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur <em>is, </em>but he’ll be damned if he’s just going to <em>tell </em>Gwaine that.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Look, you wanna sit there and not eat, that’s fine with me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Given how much you eat, I’m surprised you still <em>get </em>hungry.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Well, when you’re not sure how long you’ll have food or when you’ll get it next, you eat when you’re hungry.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The blasé way Gwaine says it gives Arthur pause. He twists around to see Gwaine still eating, glancing around to find more trace of Merlin. He looks at the knight.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine is strong, not as strong as Percival—though who is?—but a strong knight. He sits a horse well, he fights with great skill, and he’s incredibly adept at handling himself.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He catches Arthur looking and raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur blinks and shakes his head.</p><p class="p3"><br/>“There’s a tavern not too far from here. We can stay the night there.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Don’t want to camp out in the woods?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You can afford it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The tavern is small. Modest, even. The innkeeper smiles wide when they come in the door, respectfully asking to stay the night. She bows low and shows them to their rooms, telling them when dinner will be served and that if they need anything, absolutely anything, not to hesitate to ask.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Just make sure you’ve plenty of food,” Arthur warns with a smile, “my friend here has quite the appetite.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">She smiles and leaves. Arthur turns around to see Gwaine turning the scrap of fabric over and over in his fingers.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You alright?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Never better,” Gwaine says cheerfully—too cheerfully—as he stows the fabric away, “you have a plan on where to head next?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“There’s another pass further south,” Arthur says, still frowning a little, “we can ask if anyone’s seen him heading there.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Merlin didn’t <em>say </em>anything, by any chance, did he?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine hums thoughtfully. “And you haven’t been…talking or worrying about anything with him, have you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur glares. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Have you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I don’t see why it’s any of your business what I talk about with Merlin.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Given he’s missing and you’re the one he talks the most to, I think it is.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I think you should trust my judgment,” Arthur says firmly, “and that I shall choose what to share appropriately.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Something flickers across Gwaine’s face too quickly for Arthur to name. The knight smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s see what’s for dinner here, shall we?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They sit downstairs as the innkeeper bustles back over with their food. She bobbles a curtsy and goes to the other guests. As Arthur glances around the mostly full room, he sees the amount of food on their plates is significantly more than the food on the others.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine, of course, is already eating, although he sees the knight perform the same glance. Within no time, their plates are empty, Arthur’s belly pleasantly full.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“How was it,” the innkeeper asks anxiously, worrying her hands into her apron, “was it to your liking, m’lords?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It was wonderful, Hilda,” Gwaine says before Arthur can say anything, “and I couldn’t eat another bite.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur frowns at him as Hilda pays him no mind.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Oh, well, thank you, m’lord, I can only hope the rest of my cooking will be good enough.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I’m sure it will be.” Gwaine smiles and takes two gold coins out of his purse. “For your troubles.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Oh, m’lord, I can’t accept this, it’s too much! And the food is already included with your room and board, m’lord, I—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Please.” He puts the money into her hands. “Allow me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Thank you, m’lord, I—thank you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">She bows and hurries away.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine turns to Arthur. “You planning on catching flies like that?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What the bloody hell was that?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It’s called ‘paying,’ Princess, surely you’re familiar.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But you—you’re—the food—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Was <em>excellent,” </em>Gwaine says firmly with a tone that reminds him vaguely of Merlin, “and very generous.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What is going <em>on,</em>” Arthur hisses, “and what game are you playing?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine raises an eyebrow. “You want to have this conversation here?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">With a tact that Gwaine does not employ often, let alone any time Arthur’s actually <em>seen, </em>the knight moves them back upstairs to their beds. He takes a seat as Arthur starts to pace.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What’s got your pretty little head so worried?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’ve never turned down more food as long as I’ve known you. And you <em>certainly </em>haven’t voluntarily paid for it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Camelot is a kingdom that has more food than any one person could hope to eat,” Gwaine replies, propping his hand up on his knee, “and it comes from the castle kitchens. This place is an inn, run by the people, for the people, with none of the luxuries of Camelot’s heart.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine motions around. “These people do their best. Their best should be rewarded, shouldn’t it?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur stares hard at Gwaine.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine meets his gaze easily, raising his eyebrow. “You don’t actually think all this is as easy as everyone makes it out to be, do you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’ve never farmed,” Gwaine says, “never known the fear of what happens if your harvest goes bad. You have the security of the castle, of the city. These people don’t. And you’ve never had to worry about coin in your pretty little life.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">And here’s the thing, Arthur knows that. He knows he doesn’t know a lot about what life is like for the people he rules. He knows that.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">But he doesn’t <em>know </em>that.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine seems to take his silence as whatever answer he’s looking for. The knight turns on his side and starts to take his heavy armor off.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Merlin’s heading south, you think?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur nods. “I’m not sure what else is out that way. This is probably the last town we’ll come across for a while.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Then it’s a good thing we stopped, isn’t it?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…yes, I suppose it is.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine falls asleep quickly. Arthur stays awake a little longer, looking at the ceiling.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Huh.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">In the morning, Gwaine gives the innkeeper another few gold coins after breakfast, as does Arthur. They both insist she takes them, that their stay has been truly lovely. They ask if anyone’s seen Merlin, a skinny, dark-haired man heading through here.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Aye,” an older man speaks up, “I seen him. Heading toward the pass, he was, said something about a cave system.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Cave system?” Gwaine glances at Arthur. “Rung any bells?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur pays the man for the information and saddles up before Gwaine can ask any more questions. It lasts until the tavern is out of sight.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Alright,” Gwaine says without any preamble, “now tell me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“There’s nothing to tell.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Bollocks. Your pretty pampered face went two shades whiter when that man said something about the caves. Now tell me what’s happened with Merlin.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It’s none of your concern.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Unless it’s very much escaped your notice, <em>Sire, </em>I’m out here looking for my <em>friend. </em>Not your servant, not a servant of Camelot, <em>Merlin,</em>” Gwaine says in a low, dangerous voice, “and <em>if </em>you do not <em>tell </em>me the truth, I will be performing the rest of this search myself.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It takes Arthur aback, that’s for sure. He looks at Gwaine, who looks as serious as Arthur’s ever seen him, and pulls Hallariel to a halt.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Threatening a king is treason, Sir Gwaine.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Withholding information is worse.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I thought I asked you to trust me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine stares down at Arthur. It’s funny, he never noticed that Gwaine is…taller.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You really don’t know a damn thing,” Gwaine growls, “do you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Before Arthur can answer, Gwaine wheels his horse around and starts moving toward the pass again. Arthur has to urge Hallariel to a trot to keep up. For the next few hours, they don’t speak. The tense silence feels like a weight on Arthur’s armor.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He knows Gwaine and Merlin are close. He knows Gwaine cares for Merlin.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">What he doesn’t understand is this.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">If…if Gwaine cares for Merlin, then he must want Merlin found, right? If Arthur knows how to find him, he has to <em>trust </em>Arthur, right?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Then why isn’t he doing that?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Here.” Gwaine swings off his horse and ties it to the stump he lands on. “We’ll camp here.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur wants to say that <em>he’s </em>the king, thank you very much, so he’ll decide where they stay, but he doesn’t.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I’ll collect the firewood.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Since when do you know how to collect firewood?” And Gwaine’s gone.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Well, he has a point.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur gets their bedrolls set up instead and digs a fire pit. By the time Gwaine gets back, everything’s ready except for the food. Gain sets the wire and proceeds his flint and steel. The fire lights. It’s not as warm as it should be.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They sit in silence.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…how did you learn how to do all this,” Arthur says quietly after a while, “if you grew up as a noble?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine stiffens. “Who told you that?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I know you fake it,” Arthur says, “how clumsy you make yourself out to be. But you fight like a noble.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What’s that mean?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur allows himself a small smile. “Like you’ve been trained by someone who’s not cheap.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It makes Gwaine snort, at any rate. The camp lapses back into silence, but it’s not as heavy as before.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Nobles are,” Gwaine starts, “an <em>interesting </em>group of people. All talk, most of the time, when they remember how.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur stays quiet.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“They don’t understand things,” Gwaine continues, his voice growing heavy, “they don’t see things as well as they should. And people get hurt because of that.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">That Arthur knows all too well.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“The common people are the ones who suffer when the lords play their games,” Gwaine says, “they lie and they scheme and they grab for power and they forget why they’re supposed to have it in the first place.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“To care for the people,” Arthur says quietly, “and so what they can’t do for themselves.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine looks at him. In the flickering light, Gwaine looks—well, he looks like he suits the fine robes as well as Arthur.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I was never very good at their games,” he settles on finally, “but I was good at people. So I left.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“And you became one of them.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Put your faith in systems and you’ll always end up disappointed. Put it in people and you’ll always be surprised.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“The world isn’t that…easy,” Arthur decides on eventually, “it’s not designed to be.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No.” Gwaine looks back into the fire. “I’m sure you’ve been told that, right? That most people will never make a difference, no matter how hard they try? That the world’s just too big?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“My father—“ Gwaine makes a noise— “he always demanded that we <em>keep </em>the systems intact, that it was the best course of action, that change would be worse.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Do you believe him?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Not anymore.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine sits back. “It’s true to a certain extent, I suppose. That most people won’t ever make a big enough difference.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Gwaine—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Come on,” Gwaine says with a smile, a sad smile, “you know that. Hilda back there, for example, you can’t tell me that <em>she’ll </em>change the world, can you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…no.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But,” Gwaine says, “because we gave her those coins, she can have her inn fixed up. So she can host more guests and take care of her daughter. Then maybe her daughter won’t have to get married young and sell the inn.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur’s head tilts.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“They may never change <em>the </em>world,” Gwaine says, “but it makes a difference for <em>them</em>.<em>”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Oh.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>Oh. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Thank you,” Arthur murmurs, “thank you, Gwaine.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine waves him off. “Merlin’s not here to beat things into your head, guess someone has to.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Arthur huffs. “You’re here for Merlin, aren’t you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What, here in this forest or as a knight of Camelot?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Both?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Both,” Gwaine nods, fixing Arthur with a look, “is that a problem?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Is it?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Considering I’m in a very similar position,” Arthur admits, with far more honesty than he’d like, “no, not at all.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine raises his water skin. Arthur raises his. They toast to Merlin.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Let’s get some sleep,” Gwaine says after they’ve eaten their fill, “the next day’s a hard ride.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Is that near where the caves are?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It should be.” As they bed down for the night, Gwaine looks at him. “Will you tell me where we’re going tomorrow?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Yes, I will.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Good.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The morning is cool. A light mist settles over the air as they mount up and get rid of the camp. Gwaine rides in front, pointing out the tricky parts and slopes as they pick their way toward the pass.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“So,” he calls over his shoulder, “what are we looking for?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“There’s a cave,” Arthur says, “of legend. Rumor has it that when the moon turns dark and the rivers run dry, something happens.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Sounds maudlin.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re telling me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“So why’s Merlin out here?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Remember when the wells all stopped working?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“A week before we left?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Merlin came to me that morning, worried.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine’s shoulders tense. “Was he alright?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Physically,” Arthur says, “I couldn’t find any injuries, but he—he seemed anxious.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine snorts. “Merlin’s anxious a lot. Bears listening to.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Which is why I asked.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The next question is colored with something that might be approval. “What’d he tell you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What I just told you about the cave. Said it merited looking into.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Were you planning on it?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Yes.” Gwaine twists around. “I was!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Then why is Merlin out here alone?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Because the idiot decided to run off in the middle of the night instead of waiting for me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Gwaine chuckles as he turns back around. “Yep, that sounds like Merlin.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He’s going to get himself killed doing that one day,” Arthur grumbles, mostly to himself, “if he keeps waltzing off with no armor and no one to protect him.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Well, then it’s a good thing he’s got us, isn’t it?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…yes, yes it is.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I’ll tell you,” Gwaine says as they round the corner to the pass, “I’m tempted to tell him off when we do find him.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’ll have to get in line.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You think you can beat me, Princess?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I think you’re going to try and beat <em>me.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re on.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Merlin, when they finally find him, walking out of a cave with a suspicious singe to his tunic, just looks like a confused doe when Gwaine and Arthur start scolding him like two parents. And if he’s even more confused when the two of them seem to get along on the way back—with Merlin riding in the <em>middle </em>of them, thank you very much, you’re not vanishing on us again, Merlin—then he keeps his questions to himself until they’re back in Camelot.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">And if Arthur starts going to the tavern, well…</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Now he’s <em>really </em>curious where Merlin’s going, because he’s sure as hell not here.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr</p><p>https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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